A Memoir From the Trenches

Month: March 2009

The plan was to fix up the bikes today, pump the tires, repair anything that needed repairs- get ’em ready for nice spring riding. Instead, we had a deluge of hail. Big, big marble-sized hail that went on and 0n. Then, on top of the hail, an electrical storm, with giant thunder and cracks of lightning splitting the sky. Our yard looked like someone opened a bean bag chair and poured the little balls everywhere.

I took Bean to the pet store for a Bean-Mama date. He needed something, and I was willing to stomach the smells of the reptile barn if it would make him happy. We were there when the skies opened started spewing the icy marbles. We got pelted on the way to the car. Hail that big hurts.

Abby got hold of a marker and colored on her tummy this time. I had a slew of photos from her wall-art around the house, but seeing as how I don’t have a camera anymore… well, you just have to take my word for it…

Bright and shiny spot? My piano teacher said I am moving along quickly and that I’m so motivated to learn she is giving me more to practice. I love practicing. It’s therapeutic and relaxing, as long as the kids aren’t beating the keyboard at the same time.

Bean completely broke my camera by turning it on and repeatedly shoving the lens back in with his glommy fingers. He liked the sound it made. Or so he says.

The fighting and bickering is almost constant.

Bean had a nuclear melt-down at bedtime, regressing about a year to just shreiking and keening for a good, long hour. I could not snap him out of it, and don’t know what caused it. Today he is playing with a batch of Play Doh I just made, and seems calmer.

For the most part, my home is decorated in whimsical, boho antique yard sale chic. Seldom do I purchase anything new, preferring instead to thrift, craft, play find-it-at-a-tag-sale, make do, or make it myself. For the most part this works for me.

I also try and avoid general style trends (which is easy when you’re vintage-ing it) I have avoided many pitfalls it opting for classic. I’ve even avoided, like the plague, the giant wall clock trend. Until this morning.

Well, I suppose I’m still avoiding it, since I have no money, but my heart fell to my tummy when I was flipping through a Ballard Design catalog and saw this clock. The color, the patina, the gears, the rust, the modest size, the…the… *sigh* it’s just lovely.

I’m trying to figure out how to make it myself. I know painting the face would be easy, but the gears? Forget it. The workings? I’ve already checked the craft stores, and they have no clock parts bigger than a standard clock.

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Em started a second blog, and if you have second to pop by and look at the prettiness, do it. It’s about pretty things she finds. What a lovely idea.

My writing has been phoned-in lately. It’s been uninspired and insipid, and full of filler. I’m sorry for that. I really am. I take pride in writing, and trying to write well, and sometimes, I do. But lately, I just don’t have anything. I care. I want to do well, but well… things are too… hard.

Life is just so freaking hard. A year and a half with no job. Over 300 resumes sent out, and you cannot even imagine what my husband’s self image is. I also cannot begin to tell you what this has done to our relationship. I can see, all to easily, how marriages crumble under this kind of stress. Some days, I want out too. Some days I want to just pack up and leave. Or make him. And I tell myself that is not the solution, and I don’t really want to do that to our family. And so I pull myself back from the edge. But each time it gets harder.

Things with my family are hard too. I cannot share too much about what’s going on here, because if I’ve learned anything, it’s that family remembers. I don’t want to tell my family how much things suck, and how much I ache, so I hold it in.

I’ve been a bad friend to a lot of people too. I’m so far behind on thanking people for their kindnesses, I don’t even know where to begin. So I do nothing. Paralyzed. My kids never even called Grandma to thank her for their Valentines gifts. And that is all my fault. I didn’t remember to remind them. That’s not like me at all. And the water rises higher…

Spring is poking it’s head from under the icy quilt of winter, but as each month marches on, it just means another mortgage payment we have to find a way to pay. And the stock market big whigs fly off to Barbados on our tax dollars. I feel ill.

I say things I don’t mean. I try and catch my breath, and then snap at the kids for needing me when I can’t breathe. It’s not their fault. They hardly know what’s going on- or maybe I’m deluding myself, and they know exactly what’s going on. Mama is sad. Daddy is grumpy. What more does a kid need to understand?

Once, when I was a girl, I drifted into the deeper part of the pool. Never a strong swimmer, I didn’t appreciate being in water over my head. The clear deeper blue and cooler currents gave away my drifting and I pressed my legs down, reaching and stretching and yearning for the solid touch of the bottom. Arms swaying, nose bobbing barely in the air, the fluid rolling edge of the water circling my upturned face, I could almost feel the rough blue surface, just beyond reach. Almost…

I know it’s there. I just have to give something up… only this time, I don’t know what I have to give. The rolling silver edge of the water is all around me, and I can’t figure out what I need more- to breathe, or to touch the Bottom.

Things have been insane around here. Beanie is off for TWO weeks for spring break, and Jeffrey is off next week, but they have half days all this week due to parent/teacher conferences. Why even bother? 9-12? It’s more of a hassle than it’s worth.

Abby is sowing some wild oats. She has always had a predilection for coloring on the walls, and all crayons and markers have to be stored up high- like, top shelf high- only someone left a crayon down. There are large red crayon happy faces on the side of Phoebe my buffet, and behind the door in her room. Honestly, (and I know this makes my mom absolutely nuts) I really don’t care- the faces are so stinking cute- she just figured out how to make people, and I love them. Besides, they’ll come off with a magic eraser. I scolded her and put her on a time out. Meh.

At the RS diner the other night, I had the best mac and cheese of my life. I’m scrounging to get the recipe, and as soon as I have it, I’ll share. Seriously. The best.

My piano lessons are going fantastic. Did I tell you that I was taking piano? My backyard neighbor teaches piano, and one day, she gave me a date and time and said “Be there!”. She’s gifting the lessons, and then I’m teaching Jeffrey. I’ve gone from not even knowing where/what middle-C is, to being able to read simple sheet music and plunk out a song! In only a little over a month! It’s fantastic, and I love love love it. A whole new world has opened up. I never realized why the chorister waved her hand around, what a metronome was for, or why some notes went up and down. And now, I do!

Making some steps in my business. Scary, but exciting too. When the time is right, I’ll post details. Getting vetted right now for a trade show. That’s all I can say…

We’re trying to decide if Beanie is ready to mainstream into regular Kindergarten with as IEP, or if he is better off staying at the AIM school. The teachers are going to pow-wow next week and decided. I told them whatever helps him most is my plan.

Congratulations to my sister-in-law who just passed a big test to be certified in her nursing profession. She studied hard, and she did a great job. We’re proud of her.

More to come- things are in the works, and if you hear some hammering and sawing around here, just ignore it. It’s all part of the changing season!

I promised my kids I would not swear anymore, and that’s a good thing, but if I hadn’t made that promise, I would be all over this thing like a Sailor on Leave. Dudes. What have they DONE to sweet little Dora??

Abby is kind of shaped like the first-edition Dora- football headed, adventure seeking, sneaker wearing, sensible shorts, trusty backpack wearing Dora is a staple in our domicile. I mean, it’s Dora. She has adventures. She is a little girl.

What is that other exotic creature in ballet-flats going to do when Swiper steals Boots? What will she do when they have to cross the muddy river and climb blueberry mountain? Are those shoes going to cut it? And where is Backpack, Backpack? Those ridiculous ties on her shirt are going get snagged in some jungle vine and cause her to fall in quicksand.

What happened to her eyes? They went from nice brown eyes to oddly glistening anime orbs. Her ears are pierced, her lips are glossy pink, and… and…At least we are spared the Bratz lipliner- but it’s a push on the rest. Her skin is ever so slightly lighter, (this really bothers me) and her hair is highlighted. What have they done to Dora?

Is Swiper going to show up with grill and pager? Has Backpack morphed into a Louis Vuitton bag? And what of Boots? What of the monkey? Does Fancy New Dora hang with a primate? Or did she donate him to the zoo when he started to… go all Marcel?

The end is near. The President chose Leno over Letterman, Target has failed me, and Dora’s poppin’ Xenadrine. Or… Am I just getting old?